


Capital vices

by keine_angst



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: M/M, Messy Thoughts, Seven Deadly Sins, capital vices, short oneshots, wake up time to sin!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keine_angst/pseuds/keine_angst
Summary: Why would he deny himself a bit of pleasure here, on Earth, concious that he would receive a punishment after his death, judged justly by the God Almighty for his vices? Was it that immoral to want to lead enjoyable life before getting sent straight to hell?seven short oneshots interpreting seven deadly sins.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 22
Kudos: 40





	1. Luxuria

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wanted to write for the longest time. I'm a nonbeliever myself, but I have religious background (my family), and the idea of cardinal sins seems fascinating to me. So I decided to explore it.  
> I may misinterpret some things - but then again, it's just my take on it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luxuria (lust) - intense longing; usually thought of as an intense or unbridled sexual desire. Dante defined lust as the "disordered love for individuals". It is generally thought to be the least serious capital sin.

Alfie had always considered himself a lustful man. _A complete fucking sodomite_ , as he stated once. Focused only on fulfilling his mundane needs, detached from what the people surrounding him might feel.

And there was a good reason for that - why would he care about the others' well-being, right, in a world taken over by sin, evil and putridity? Why would he deny himself a bit of pleasure here, on Earth, concious that he would receive a punishment after his death, judged justly by the God Almighty for his vices? Was it that immoral to want to lead enjoyable life before getting sent straight to hell?

For years his strategy had been working fine. He indulged himself with everything he desired, overstepping the limits of degeneration he hadn't been aware of prior. He had gained reputation of a callous man, indifferent to the others' suffering. Dealing with bad men on his way to the top made him unsympathetic and fearless - he had no reason to be scared of anyone or anything, had he? He had been damned already, after all, he couldn't possibly sink any lower.

And then he met Thomas Shelby.

He had missed first clues indicating something was wrong. He put the gun down, instead of shooting him in the face, like he would normally do when he couldn't come to an understanding with a business partner. He chose to listen to him, let him explain his plan - allowed him to speak up, treated him like an equal. But there was a voice in the back of his head telling him he was doing it purely out of lust - sooner or later, he aimed to fuck this man.

And fuck him, he did. In his office, for the first time. For a cause. For business reasons only. As a part of the deal. Tommy's humiliation as he had him there, bent over the desk, was priceless, incomparable with anything. He proved that Shelby wasn't the most powerful person in existence, as the Birmingham man seemed to believe. It felt like an accomplishment - he raised beyond this man, established his dominance. As he was finished, he didn't think about it personally - it was a pleasant interlude in a busy, working day, his instincts and desires taking over him for a while, alright, but nothing more.

But then things started to change.

It didn't happen all at once - it was a gradual change, slowly shattering everything he had believed in - long forgotten feelings creeping under his skin, rearranging the way he perceived the world.

He started seeing Shelby more frequently - both for work and fucking, business before pleasure - separating his feelings from the acts the best as he could, until he came to the realisation that he had failed at it a long time ago - and this awareness caught him off guard. He was used to using people vacantly to get what he wanted, he would never guess that he could care about someone.

Not killing Tommy during their first meeting was shooting himself in the foot, sleeping with him was the worst idea he could possibly think of - and allowing him to get this close, to see right through him - was the final nail in his coffin.

One night he was laying in bed with Tommy, simmering down after a particularly satisfying intercourse - when younger man whispered unexpectedly, his face pressed to Alfie's neck, three words that made him gasp.

_"I love you."_

Solomons wasn't afraid of people pointing guns at him, of losing everything he had ever had in his life, of dying - the only thing that scared him was affection. For once in his lifetime, he became speechless for a moment, terrified by the simplicity of these words and efortlessness of articulating the thought.

He didn't answer.

He wasn't in love, for sure. Godless creatures like him weren't supposed to find a peace of mind in cherishing other person. He was unable to feel anything except hatred and anger - an exemplary sinner, embodiment of impureness and evil.

But then again, there was Tommy. A heartless man, just like him. Abjudicating and executing judgements, murdering innocent and guilty, pulling the trigger without a blink, ruling Birmingham with an iron fist.

Yet somehow, regardless of his reputation, he changed beyond recognition when he was with Alfie - he was tremendous man by day, and tender lover at night. The way he kissed him, touched his skin, curled up trustfully by his side - Solomons would never believe those soft hands that fondled his cheek unwittingly were the exact same hands that had killed numerous human beings throughout his career.

Tommy made him feel weak, and it wasn't due to him using any sort of force, but the opposite of that - knowing his power, he was designfully choosing to cast it out and let himself go, falling asleep in his arms, trusting Alfie wouldn't hurt him. And Solomons was - to some extent - jelaous of him, because of this ability to disconnect the two sides of his nature and adjust to the situation.

It took him a long time before he reached the point of not caring about stepping out from behind the facade of a cruel man that he had built himself; persuade himself that in front of a right person - and he believed Tommy might be one - he didn't need to act; allow himself to feel something.

That night, holding Shelby firmly in his arms, mouth just above his ear, he switched off his brain and let his lips phrase this yet unfamiliar sentence.

_I love you._

He wasn't sure if he voiced it out loud - it didn't matter. He allowed this thought to his mind, and that was just enough.

The lust dissolved in him - it was no longer an unrestrained carnal desire, but the need of intimacy, of tenderness, of feeling loved.

He let Tommy kiss his lips once again.


	2. Gula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gula (gluttony) - is the overindulgence and overconsumption of anything to the point of waste. It can be interpreted as selfishness; essentially placing concern with one's own impulses or interests above the well-being or interests of others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You could argue it's not about gluttony. It's about relatioship with food in general, but I guess it still counts, since eating is but a mundane thing, thus - to some extent - profane and unholy.  
> For the context : they are in established relationship, living in Margate.

When it comes to nutrition, Tommy and Alfie were at the opposite ends of the spectrum.

Alfie was a nondrinker, he hadn't touched the alcohol in ages - it made him feel unwell for the most part, making his back pains unbearable, disrupting his sleeping schedule - but he liked to indulge himself with a solid meal. Tommy on the other hand, he didn't eat at all - or at least it seemed like he didn't, since he always managed to avoid it somehow - and he drank way too much.

One day however, they made an arrangement - they were going to swap places. Tommy promised to eat well for the entire day, and Alfie declared he could drink a glass or two.

It was Alfie's idea. He wanted to step into his lover's shoes for once and find to his cost what drives Tommy to such behaviour. It was meant to be a way to accomplish better mutual understanding - since they were the opposites in this field, they both agreed they could learn something from this experiment. They had been getting along fairly well for the past few months, and diving into the depths of each others' minds could only brighten their relationship.

Tommy's eating habits - or the lack thereof, actually - had never been properly adressed by neither of them. Alfie had been trying to touch on it, briefly, when they first started dating, but he couldn't get any response that would satisfy him. It was always something along the lines of _I don't know, I don't care, I just don't like it, I'm not even hungry_. Tommy was getting nervous each time he had attempted making him eat something, baling out by making up nonsensical excuses - and Solomons didn't feel like fighting him or nailing him down to do anything. He gave him some space, not to discourage him from opening up finally, when he'll have felt safe by his side. And when the right time had come, Alfie came up with this plan. 

The beginning was, let's say, succesful. Alfie prepared breakfast and they sat by the kitchen table. Tommy sniffed at a sandwich and scrambled eggs - _you could at least offer me something better, if I'm to sacrifice_ , he said, to which Solomons replied with a gentle _fuck you_ , as he poured himself a solid glass of white "bread".

First sip that he took was nauseating. Bitter taste filled his mouth, blinding his senses and making his heart beat faster and blood rushing in his veins. He _hated_ the thing with passion, but he would drink the entire bottle if he had to, just to see Tommy feeding off something.

Seeing younger man eating was reassuring - he was doing it slowly, carefully, lingering with every bite - and weird. Shelby was the only person that could look ludicrously doing something essential to live, such as ingesting. They hardly talked by the table; heavy shadow of silence hanging between them. 

By the time they got to eating late lunch, after walking Cyril on the beach - Tommy, who up to this moment had been doing fine, started showing his weakness. It wasn't that he wasn't eating - he was, but the way he did made Alfie sick. Playing with food, smashing it to a mash with a fork, chewing every bite so long, that by the time the other man had finished the meal (whiskey this time), his plate was still almost full. He didn't breathe a word about not liking it - and for that Solomons was thankful, because if he started making up excuses, he would lose it. Alfie didn't insist that he cleaned his plate - didn't push him at all. Let him stop when he wanted to. Reassured him it was fine. 

In the evening they took it easy. Alfie was starving, he needed to eat something, and Tommy would do anything to avoid it. Eventually, as a compromise, instead of proper dinner, they ate some fruits from Alfie's garden and drank sweet wine, sitting on the balcony in the evening breeze. Solomons was about to tell Tommy how proud of him he was, how well he had done, how fucking perfect he was - but he bit his tongue, not to baffle his lover; he would feel off if he said too much about it. He left the words unarticulated and kissed Tommy instead. 

At night, as they were laying in bed, listening to the soothing sound of the waves crushing at the cliff, Alfie realised his plan had failed. No matter how hard he had tried, how he had empathised, how fucking exhausted he felt after that - he didn't come closer to the answers, he didn't move the tiniest bit. He couldn't fathom why would anyone do it to themself, why would anyone purposely make themself feel empty and weak. 

"Fuck, Tommy," he panted under the weight of the younger man, who climbed on top of him to place himself in his arms, "I don't understand. I still don't undestand."

"I wouldn't like you to be able to understand," Tommy mumbled, leaning for a kiss. His mouth tasted of ripe pears - its usual flavour of cigarettes and whiskey was gone and _God_ , if Alfie ever loved the softness of those lips more than in this moment. "You alright?" he asked, noticing his man was shivering a little - he had never seen him this vulnerable, it didn't suit his large body and big personality.

"That's what booze does to me," he answered, reaching for Tommy's hands and squeezing them firmly - cool, skinny fingers against his warm palms, eager for touch.

"You're better off without drinking then," Shelby said, resting his head at Alfie's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

And you're better off eating, Alfie was about to say, but he swallowed these words - from what he had learned that day, it wasn't that easy to just say it and expect him to do it. He didn't want Tommy to stop trusting him for making such a reckless comment. He loved him so much he couldn't stand seeing him miserable.

And he didn't want to lose him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was something very important for me to write about, since the series never adressed it, and Tommy clearly doesn't have healthy eating habits.  
> I hope you don't understand.


	3. Avaritia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avaritia (greed) - a sin of desire; term applied to an artificial, rapacious desire and pursuit of material possessions. In the words of Henry Edward, avaritia "plunges a man deep into the mire of this world, so that he makes it to be his god".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian treasury scene, 3x05

Tommy started regretting taking Alfie with him to the Russian's treasury the moment he opened his mouth.

Why had he decided to bring him there in the first place, was unknown, even for himself. With the money he had, he could hire the most competent jeweller in England, yet he sticked to pretending that Alfie was qualified in this field. Solomons added the fear factor to the deal - his presence and his confusing words could make everyone feel helplessly weak and doubtful. And perhaps he had a vague idea what he was doing, but the way he acted implied his contempt towards the Russians - he was tossing golden neckleaces, bracelets and gem stones around as if they lacked any value - and then this straight-forward question about fabergé that made Tommy clench his teeth, not to cut in.

They had settled before that Tommy was going to let him play it alone, without his help. Shelby agreed to that, because he realised Alfie could cope with it single-handed, and adding his voice to the discussion would only complicate things. He kept count of the jewellery and didn't say much during the negotiations, overwhelmed by Alfie's oratory.

Fortunately, Alfie was a better negotiator than a jeweller, and he managed to persuade the Grand Duke to let him take the fabergé. A smirk of satisfaction flickered through his face after the deal had been confirmed. "Right," he grunted, taking the magnifier out of his eye.

"Now, Mr. Shelby, you will join your brothers, and Mr. Solomons will take his leave," duchess Izabella announced. Tommy motioned to Alfie and they left the treasury.

"I have an unpleasant feeling that your new friends dislike me," Alfie said as they were walking through the corridor, "and I wonder why is that. Did I come across as too unkind, pointing out this fucking paste? Or did they get miffed by my comment about their people, about the rascals that hunted me mom?"

"Alfie, that's enough," Tommy interrupted him as they reached the door.

"Yeah, enough, that's right, 'cause I don't give a shit about them either way," Alfie said, more to himself than to Tommy, "fucking peasants, wearing crowns and acting like kings."

Tommy reached his hand to open the door, and Alfie did too - their fingers met at the handle. Shelby let go first and Afie opened the door. "After you," he said, and Tommy went first, feeling a bit embarassed, but also surprised by Alfie's politeness.

"You're going to stay at the party?" Tommy asked as they entered one of many rooms they had to pass through on the way to the banquieting hall.

"In this stinky, godless place? Fucking no," Alfie responded, "and you heard them, they don't want me here either. Why did you stop, mate?"

Tommy, as a matter of fact, stopped in front of yet another door. "I need to ask you a question, Alfie," he stated openly.

"A question? Go on," Solomons muttered, "but make it quick, I don't want to stay here any longer."

"Did they try to bribe you?" Tommy asked, even though he was positive they did - the Russians must've scented a potential ally in Alfie the second he had walked into the treasury. Tommy didn't doubt that Alfie could betray him in exchange for some gold or a valuable piece of jewellery - he didn't trust him at all. It wouldn't be the first time Alfie parted ways with him and joined forces with his opponents - he had done this before, almost sentencting his brother to death.

"The fuck you're talking 'bout, mate?" Alfie seemed surprised by his question, but Tommy had a gut feeling that he had expected it and was prepared to answer. "Why would they? And why would I, as a dear friend of yours, consider accepting a payoff, like some unchivalrous rogue?"

"They did," Tommy surmised, even more assured than before, "and you accepted it."

Tommy couldn't figure out what happened next, but a second later Alfie was pressing him against the wall, holding his arms in an iron grip, disenabling him to move.

"When we were waiting for you, right, he told me, that Russian scum," Alfie mumbled, his mouth dangerously close to Tommy's lips, "that if I'd like to fuck you over and join his side, he'd give me anything I'd like from this treasury he owns."

Tommy blinked slowly, wondering if Alfie had betrayed him already - it wouldn't be that much of a surprise, he didn't have any reason to stick to him whatsoever. The Russians had more to offer than Tommy did, and Alfie wasn't stupid - he could seize the opportunity to get rich.

"And what did you reply?" he asked, staring into Alfie's eyes that were watching him closely.

"I told him," he droned, emphasasing every single word, "that all the gold in this fucking world collected wouldn't be as good as having you in my bed, just for once."

There was a moment of silence after that - their heavy breaths filling the room, annoyingly loud - and then Alfie realeased him from his grip and stepped back, adjusting his waistcoat.

"See you very soon, Thomas," Solomons said impassively, heading to the door. Tommy couldn't think of any response. When Alfie left the room, his knees bowed and he found himself on the floor, hiding his face in his hands.

The _bastard._


	4. Acedia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acedia (sloth) - mentally - affectlessness, a lack of any feeling about self or other, a mind-state that gives rise to boredom, rancor, apathy, and a passive inert or sluggish mentation. Physically - acedia is fundamentally with a cessation of motion and an indifference to work; it finds expression in laziness, idleness, and indolence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes to @strawberriez8800 for giving me this cute idea. Have a nice, lazy afternoon <3

Sunday afternoon was Alfie's favourite part of the week, especially when he could spend it with Tommy.

This summer afternoon was particularly warm and particularly lazy. The blinds were shut, not to let too much sunlight to the bedroom - it was hot inside, even without it. Tommy, bared from his clothes, stretched on the sheets, a renaissance painting coming to life, cherry on top of pleasantly spent day.

Alfie was feeling too lazy for a proper fuck - instead, he dived between Tommy's thighs, providing him pleasure using only his mouth, the way his loved one enjoyed the most - unhurriedly, deftly, proving his knowledge of Tommy's body, touching him just like he needed to be touched in order to feel good. Tommy's soft moans, his fingers amidst Alfie's hair, cloyingly sweet scent of his skin - Solomons could spend the entire day like this, slothfully making love to his man.

Their activity suddenly got interrupted by Cyril's barking at the door. They tried to ignore it and continue what they were doing, but the dog kept pawing the door and making noise. Alfie withdrew a little to look at Tommy's blushed face - he always looked five years younger after a good sex - Alfie loved him like this.

"Did you walk Cyril after lunch?" Tommy asked, though he was positive he did not - they were inseparable since he had arrived in the morning.

"Nah, mate," Alfie placed a kiss at his thigh, just to hear a quiet groan escaping Tommy's lips, "been busy taking care of my guest."

Oh, his hospitality was undisputed - ever since Tommy had walked through the front door, Alfie couldn't take his hands off him. They haven't seen each other for the past two weeks and both of them needed some intimacy.

"Ignore this bloody dog," Alfie commanded, getting back to his previous activity. He took Tommy in his mouth again, causing him gasp and push his head closer.

He managed to continue for a few moments more, before Cyril barked again, this time even louder than before.

"Ah, fucking 'ell," Alfie mumbled, moving up. Tommy smiled at him as he got up the bed. "Don't move, dear, I'll be back in a second."

"I miss you already," Tommy answered, rolling to lay on his side - a fucking antique sculpture in Alfie's bed. He had seen him naked so many times, yet he still couldn't fathom the beauty of his body. Leaving him undone like this felt like a sin.

Alfie didn't walk Cyril - having told him off for interrupting such a lovely moment, he let him out to the garden. The dog looked up at him with its sad eyes - almost like it understood it had done a bad thing.

"We'll go to the beach in the evening, buddy," Alfie promised, petting the dog.

He closed the door and went back upstairs to find Tommy touching himself. It could be quite a show to watch, but he suddenly felt like engaging himself a bit more - he stripped himself from his clothes and dipped into the sheets.

"Thought you were too tired," Tommy whispered between the kisses, as Alfie run his hands down his back, making him shiver.

"Well, a change of plan," Alfie said.

They didn't walk Cyril in the evening either - they were too busy. Not too lazy, by any mean, just too absorbed by making love.

**Author's Note:**

> since it's a collection of ideas, I won't update regularly, but when I feel like writing something.  
> do not hesitate to let me know what do you think about it!  
> [say hi to me on tumblr](https://keine-angst.tumblr.com)


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